


Pleasure in the Work

by nirejseki



Series: Lil Bro AU [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Families of Choice, Family, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:57:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nirejseki/pseuds/nirejseki
Summary: Barry Allen is starting to grow up - and that means picking a career.Preferably not a career that's going to make his family want tokill him.(Lil Bro verse: Barry is Mick's younger brother)





	1. Picking the Work

“But we're graduating _tomorrow_!” Iris exclaims. “You can’t go _now_!”

“But they said there was a vanishing in an _electrical plant_ ,” Barry says. Can’t she see how important this is?

Graduation, whatever. 

This could be the key to solving his mom’s murder and freeing his dad!

“ _Or_ it could be a dead end like the last _million times_ ,” Iris points out, crossing her arms.

Len pulls up in a car. He’d promised to swing by that morning to take home the graduation robes that Barry just picked up from the principal's office, so that Barry didn’t have to cart them around school all day or stuff them into his locker.

It’s a fairly innocuous car, which means it’s probably stolen.

Barry never tells Iris or Joe about that. Luckily, as long as it’s dark blue, they tend to assume it’s the same car.

It’s not. Len is _way_ too paranoid to keep the same car around. 

Also, Barry's pretty sure he's trying to see how many different brands he can run in front of Joe before Joe finally figures it out. 

“Len!” Iris says, turning to him and smiling with just a little bit a flush rising into her cheeks. She’s got a bit of a crush on Len, apparently, which – man, Barry just has _no luck_ , does he? He’s had a crush on Iris since he was _six_ and then she promptly goes and falls for his _brother-in-law_.

His very attractive, very charming, very pansexual brother-in-law. 

On the bright side, at least Len is definitely taken. By a very big, very protective Mick, no less. 

That’s something, at least.

Still.

_Why?_

“Iris West, Central City's most charming flower,” Len says, lips curling into a smirk. The worst part is, Barry knows he's not even trying to be smooth. He's just enjoying the pun. “What’s new?”

“Tell Barry he can’t go to _Starling City_ today. He’ll never make it back in time for graduation!”

Len blinks. “Starling? Why? What's in Starling?”

“There was an Event,” Barry explains. “Supernatural; all the people on my blog forums are talking about it. In the power plant in Starling – it’s electricity related –”

“Got it,” Len says, nodding. “Okay, hop in.”

“But Barry still has class,” Iris objects.

“It’s the day before graduation; skipping one class ain't gonna stop it from happening,” Len says reasonably. “Starling’s six hundred miles from here – roads are pretty clear mid-week – we hit a hundred on the highway, we’ll be there in six, seven hours. Explore the place in the evening, drive back overnight, and Barry’ll be back in time for graduation.”

“You’re the _best_ ,” Barry says, because it's true. 

Even Iris is smiling, that infatuated little smile. “Okay,” she says. “That is pretty cool. But you bring Barry back in time, you hear me?”

Len salutes her, which makes her laugh.

Barry climbs into the car, and away they go.

He _loves_ Len.

Len is awesome. Len is perfect and considerate and suave and badass and amazing and…damnit. He can see why Iris has a crush on him.

“I’m taken,” Len points out when Barry explains the problem.

“I know,” Barry moans, putting his head in his hands. “But I don’t know why she never sees _me_ as a valid option, you know?”

“Given the amount of handholding you two engage in, I think she does,” Len says dryly. 

“…you think so?”

“Oh yeah. No doubt.”

“But then why did she tell me she has a crush on _you_?”

“Well, I’m awesome,” Len points out. “Who wouldn’t have a crush on me?”

Barry rolls his eyes.

“Besides, I’m _taken_ ,” Len says. “Which may be the point.”

“What do you mean?”

“A crush on me’s never going to go anywhere, and Iris knows it,” Len says. “Her telling you about it means she's trying to hint that she’s not ready for a real relationship yet. Which is fine. But let me be clear, Bar – this pining from a distance shit you’re doing? It’s gotta stop. Tell her that you’re up for it if she is, that you’re okay with it if she ain’t, and back off till she gives you an answer. Anything else’s just false pretenses.”

“I can do that,” Barry says.

“Bar.”

“…I’ll try,” Barry allows. He’s still not that good at potentially embarrassing confrontations.

Also, Len is _still_ the best lie-spotter in the whole world. Barry can’t even _omit_ stuff around him.

Let's not even talk about the time that Barry thought he'd learned how to play poker. Barry's _still_ paying off his debts from that game. 

“Anything else is creepy, Bar,” Len says patiently. “You want to be in an honest relationship with the girl, she’s gotta know where you stand. That way it doesn’t come out five, ten years down the line and she feels like you’ve only ever been hanging out with her for a chance to get in her pants.”

“It’s not that at _all_! Iris is my best friend!”

“But she’s gonna think it is, or at least she’s going to be real awkward around you until she gets over it and that could take a while, so if you don’t want that to happen – suck it up,” Len says. “Also, if _I'm_ advocating honestly, you know it's needed."

"...point."

"Glad we agree. Now, left or right, black and white?”

“Fine, fine,” Barry says. It's Len’s favorite road-trip game. Barry’s too, actually, but whatever. “I’m thinking of something…green.”

“Inanimate?”

“No.”

“Animal?”

“What? No. What type of animal is green?”

“Lizards. Sloths.”

"Sloths?"

"I think it's something to do with moss growing on 'em."

“Huh. Cool.”

“Country?”

“Yes.”

“Ireland.”

“…that one was obvious, wasn’t it.”

“You think?”

“Could’ve been something else.”

“Wasn’t.”

“I think I want to work for the cops,” Barry blurts out, because his mouth decides these things for him. 

Len drives in silence for a few miles.

Barry gnawed at his lip.

“Keeping up with that CSI stuff?” Len says after a long minute.

“I like it,” Barry says helplessly. “I feel _helpful_. I get to do good things, you know?”

“Putting away criminals,” Len observes. _Like me and Mick_ , he doesn't say, but it's not necessary for Barry to still be able to hear it. 

“If they’ve done something wrong,” Barry corrects. “And showing it wasn’t them, if it wasn’t. So that we don’t rely on nothing but police hunches. Police biases. Not everyone's a professional like you, Len. Some people need to get caught.”

That gets a thoughtful nod.

“Also, I just - I like doing it,” Barry says. “I like the _work_. I like the chemistry, the rest of it. Solving puzzles. Helping people. It’s fun. It’s _good_. It makes me _feel_ good.”

Len just nods.

“But…” Barry hesitates. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“Because I disapprove?”

“I don’t want you to be unhappy. You or Mick.”

Len hums a little. “And Mick and I want you to be happy, too. You know that.”

Barry rubs his face. “Yeah, I know. But I can be happy in a chemistry lab somewhere, too, y’know. Doesn’t _have_ to be with the cops.”

“But you’d like to be a CSI, if you had a choice.”

“Yeah.”

Len nods. “Then be a CSI,” he says, as if it’s that easy.

“But –”

“We’ll work out a way for you to do it,” Len says. 

“Are – are you sure?”

“Bar,” Len says, sounding long-suffering. “Why do Mick and I do what we do?”

“…because you hate working and love money?”

Len’s lips twitch. “I mean, yes,” he says. “But really.”

“Well, because you enjoy it.”

“And you’ll enjoy the CSI thing.”

“But won’t it…cause trouble? For you? Or, well, for me, since I'm related to you?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Len says.

“You don’t want me to try for something else?”

“If I was the sort of person to encourage people to do something they didn’t want to do,” Len says patiently, “I wouldn’t be a criminal.”

Barry frowns. “I’m…pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

Len rolls his eyes.

“You _literally_ hold guns to people’s heads, like, _all the time_ –”

“You know what I mean,” Len says grumpily, but he’s smiling with his eyes the way Len does when he's really amused.

“You really don’t mind?”

“No.”

Barry sighs with relief. If Len can get over _his_ hatred for the police, which is as deep and boundless as the ocean, then Mick should be able to as well.

Still….

“Do you think Mick’ll be okay with it?” he asks Len.

Len snorts.

Barry frowns at him. “What?”

“Glove compartment,” Len says.

“What…?”

“Glove compartment.”

Barry leans open and pops the glove compartment open. There’s a water bottle, a gun (damnit Len) and…brochures?

Barry pulls them out.

They’re for various CSI-specific college programs, both locally and further away. Public schools, private schools, the works.

They’re marked up in sharpie, too: key statistics underlined, course offerings that Barry immediately identifies as interesting circled…

“…you already knew,” Barry surmises.

“Mick’s been saving up for your college fund since you went to that summer internship,” Len confirms cheerfully. “We figure you can put Joe West as your next-of-kin like he’s been pressing you to for ages, for when you get to the police, since if you put us, they might not hire you.”

“You don’t want Joe as my next of kin,” Barry objects.

“Not in the slightest,” Len says. “But it’ll be fine. Anyone tries to cause you any trouble, they’ll answer to us.”

“Don’t do that!” Barry yelps. “I need to have _some_ cases I can work on without conflict of interest.”

Len smirks.

“…don’t do it anywhere I notice it, okay?”

“That I can promise,” Len says.

“Oh god, you’ve already done it.”

“No comment.”

“ _Len_.”

“ _Barry_.”

“How are you like this?” Barry moans. " _Why_ are you like this?"

“Excellent parenting,” Len says drolly.

“Oh, no,” Barry says. “Not parenting. This is _all_ you. And it’s a good thing, you _idiot_.”

Len’s eyebrows arch in a silent question.

“You don’t think I’m going to be angry at you for doing everything you can to protect me, do you?” Barry asks, because _of course_ Len thinks that. “You emotionally stunted idiot.”

“Brat.”

“Troll.”

“Pest.”

“Adrenaline junkie.”

“ _Nerd_.”

“I’m gonna be a CSI!” Barry chirps.

“God help the criminals,” Len says. Then he thinks for a second. "Actually, strike that. God help the CCPD."

“Hey!”

Silence for a few moments. A pleasant, comfortable silence; both of them content. 

“Left and right, black and white,” Barry says eventually.

“I’m thinking of something – upright.”

“Huh. Animal?”

“No.”

“Inanimate?”

“Yes.”

“Lamppost?”

“No.”

“Upright, upright, upright…give me a category.”

“Science.”

“Upright science…upright science…oh! Microscope!”

“Well done. They may make a CSI out of you in the end.”

The supernatural mystery turns out to be a dead end, but Barry makes it back in time to walk the stage for his diploma _and_ prevent Mick and Joe from getting into a fistfight, so all in all, he thinks it was a pretty good day.


	2. CSI Time

“Here you go, boss!” 

David Singh blinks down at the pile of files in front of him, then up at the rapidly retreating back of – who was that again?

“Who’s that?” he asks Cecile, the ADA assigned to liaison with his office.

“Barry Allen,” she says, amused. “He’s one of our CSIs, working offsite at the main labs.”

David poked at the pile. “Oh, goody. He got stuck with delivery duty?”

“His foster-dad works here, I think,” she says. “One of the detectives, I’m not sure. Don’t sound so down; he’s really good. He’s gotten us enough evidence to lead to eight arrests which will make for solid convictions, and they’re Family-related, too. He’s got no fear.”

“No fear, huh?” David said, smiling. “Not bad. Maybe we should move him here.”

“Lab says he’s always late to everything,” she warns.

“I can deal with a punctuality problem if he’s willing to go after serious criminals in Central,” Singh replies dryly. “And do it well, too.”

He reviews the files later that night.

They’re – good. They’re really good, actually; Cecile wasn’t kidding about Allen’s lack of fear—some of the conclusions he draws about certain well-connected Family guys in here will get him shot in an alley if he’s not careful—but she failed to mention how _professional_ he is in his work. The pictures are clean and well-aimed, none of this fail-to-focus-on-the-right-object nonsense you see sometimes in other reports. Allen is conscientious, running extra tests and even staying late to do so, and every once in a while it turns up something that would have been overlooked, like markers of poison in a bloodstain that showed that a guy’s “accident” was actual murder one. 

He wasn’t afraid to stand up to cops, either. There were at least two complaints in on him from guys David didn’t like and kept only because firing them would get _him_ shot in an alley, guys who thought their corrupt practices were a lot more secret than they really are; complaints that Allen had gone over their head and straight to the DA with the evidence to show that their preferred suspect was innocent.

Allen believes in law and justice in the law. For real, not just for show.

David reserves his judgment, but he keeps an eye out for the kid. Sure enough, he swings by once in a while, on missions from the main processing lab; he usually takes some time to speak with Joe West. Good cop, if somewhat impetuous and maybe not so good with the straight talk, but at least there were no corrupt Family connections there.

Honestly, David’s amazed that Allen’s as much of a straight shooter as he appears to be. West is the sort of person who sometimes puts justice above the law, strictly speaking, and while David has some sympathy for that, especially in Central, it makes for bad police work in the end. What good is it to get a bad guy off the streets only for his conviction to be thrown out a few months later due to bad evidence collection?

At least Allen seems to have his head screwed on right, which is important for the guy collecting their evidence.

After another month of observation, David’s satisfied.

“Ask Allen if he’d like to come work in-house at the CCPD,” he tells Hamid over in HR. “He can have the upstairs lab and be our on-call CSI. First man at every scene, rather than waiting at the processing lab for results.”

“Allen, huh?” Hamid says, nodding. “Good pick.”

“Yeah, I thought so. He might be late to everything, but god, he’ll still be quicker than Perillo.”

“Paint drying on a _wall_ is quicker than Perillo. I’ll talk to Allen.”

David’s not expecting to have to pay much attention beyond that, except the next day Hakim pokes his head in and says, “He said thanks, but no thanks.”

“What, _really_?”

“Yeah. Looked wistful, said it sounded like an amazing opportunity, but that it probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“Right,” David says, because that doesn’t square with what he knows about Allen at all. “Let me talk to him.”

So the next day after that, Allen comes into David’s office.

“Hi, Captain Singh,” he says, hands stuck in his pockets. “How can I help you?”

“Sit,” David says, and Allen does. “What’s this I hear about you not wanting to come work with us in person?”

Allen smiles crookedly. “You have no idea how much I’d like to do that,” he says, and David – who’s always viewed himself as being a good judge of people – believes him a hundred percent. “But it’s just probably not a good idea.”

“Why’s that?” David says.

“Can I be blunt?”

“Go ahead,” David asks, intrigued. He’d pegged Allen for a straight shooter; looks like he was going to get it with both barrels. 

“My foster family’s part criminal,” Barry says, just plain as that. “I don’t want to work on anything they might be involved with because any arrests that get made might get discredited as a result.”

David can feel his eyebrows going up. “I though West was your foster family?” he asks, trying to buy some time to think this through.

“No, his application was denied,” Barry says. “I ran away from the family I was assigned and grew up down by Spruce and McFeely Park.”

Ouch. Definitely slum territory. 

“Now, I’ve talked over my career choices with them, and they don’t mind, but I wanted to be upfront with you.”

“Right,” David says faintly. “If I may ask…?”

“Leonard Snart and Mick Rory.”

_Holy crap._

“You _survived_ living with –” David cuts himself off. That question was rude. “Thank you for letting me know, Allen.”

Allen nods. 

“…how do you deal with this in the lab?” David asks. “Surely you still get sent their cases.”

Allen grins crookedly. “Well,” he says, “they don’t actually _tell_ me what they’re up to. Never have; they know I don’t approve of theft –” 

Allen doesn’t approve of theft and he grew up with _them?!_

“- so they keep me out of it. But they do have some pretty recognizable traits. I just swap any untraceable thefts involving fire with someone else, and I’m usually okay.”

David nods. Makes sense. They haven’t caught Leonard Snart the old-fashioned way in ages, and it wasn’t due to any failure in their CSI department. The man’s just a goddamn criminal genius. 

Rory they’ve had more luck with, but honestly, as long as no one died in the fires he sets, dealing with Snart’s inevitable attempts to break his partner out were more trouble than it was really worth keeping Rory off the streets for.

Criminal goddamn genius. 

“Well,” he says after a moment’s thought. “Don’t suppose there’s any reason you can’t do that here, too.”

Allen frowns at him. “But sir,” he says. “The rules against policemen associating with people of bad character –”

“It’s Central, Allen,” David says, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t invite them to lunch _at the station_ and we’ll overlook it the way we do all those boys who took out a high-paying loan to cover the mortgage during hard times.”

After all, when you were desperate in Central City, the Families were always there.

Honestly, David didn’t even hold the loans against those guys; he distinctly remembered having to pick between paying his student loans or for his then-boyfriend to get his dislocated wrist fixed. He’d solved it by eating exclusively at school fundraiser lunches for the rest of the month and going into credit card debt that _still_ haunted him sometimes, but the loans weren’t the problem.

The problem was the boys who tried to pay them back in services instead of cash.

At the very least, given Snart and Rory’s notorious and _very_ well-known anti-Family position, David figured Allen wasn’t going to have that problem.

Jesus, no wonder Allen didn’t know fear.

“So, Allen,” he says. “What do you say?”

Allen beams. “Yes, _sir_!” he says.

“Be here tomorrow at 8AM sharp,” David orders. “You start then.”

Allen arrives at 8:46, looking harried and citing bus failures, but whatever. 

Good enough.


End file.
